Too Much
by Mistah Js girl
Summary: This is about how much Harley Quinn really does love the Joker. which, as I found from personal experence is too much. If you ever wondered what it means to love someone too much, and how there can be too much love read this. It's short, simply, and sad.


Too Much

(Ever wonder what people mean when they say they love someone too much, how can you love someone too much? Well in two pages I explain what it means to love someone too much. No one should ever come to this point, not ever. I know what this feels like, and I've come so close to doing this way too many times. When you love someone too much, and they don't love you back, sometimes you feel like death is your only escape from their cruelty. I use Harley to demonstrate this, because who could be a better example.)

Today, is Saturday, I think. The white little aspirins are all laid out in a line, so orderly and pretty. I stand here, I feel listless and numb. I've felt this way my whole life, no one ever noticed, no one ever cared. I was going insane long before I became Harley Quinn, and that wasn't even the finial stray. 

I remember when I was 16, I felt listless, I felt numb, and hurting inside, I felt lonely, I hurt inside, I could tell there was something wrong in my mind. And i tried telling other people, but you see they never listened, they don't listen if your blonde and perky and you don't stay out till three and smoke pot. They don't listen, even if you cut your arms and they see it, they don't listen when you tell them you need help, they don't listen. Then, when you finally loose it they all say is was so sudden, you were always so happy they say. They only think that because they ignore you.

They always told me how good I was, how normal I was, maybe if they had noticed I wasn't okay I wouldn't be here today. But here I am, a bottle of aspirin all laid out, I shall take them by fives, until they are all in my stomach, then I'll go make breakfast. I wouldn't want mistah J to be upset with me if I forget to make breakfast, you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Maybe French toast today, with a side of scrambled eggs, and toast with grape jelly. orange juice or milk, it all depends I suppose on which mistah J wants today. 

I figure I will collapse right after I serve breakfast, and everything will just go black, and I won't feel anything anymore, I think that would be so nice. I'm so tired of feeling things, because all I feel is bad things. And I can't make them stop, I can't make them stop. 

First five down the hatch.

I decided I would put myself to rest last night, you see, the thing is. I can't make breakfast for mistah J today, because he's in another country. I think he's in Iraq or one of those desert countries. And he won't be coming back, he said he'd back for my birthday, then it was Christmas, then new years, but the last stay was when he couldn't come for our anniversary. I knew he was never coming back, not ever. I could just tell, sure he said he would. But why believe him, he never tells the truth, and never keeps his word, he never cares about how I feel. I think he used to, but not now.

Now I tell him he's hurting me, I tell him he's killing me, I pour my heart out to him, and now he's just like the rest of the world. He doesn't listen.

Ten down.

Fifteen down.

Twenty down.

Twenty five.

Thirty.

Thirty five.

That's all there was, it wasn't a full bottle. But I figure thirty five should do the trick. I could call him and tell him I took thirty five aspirins, he's just yell at me and say I was just making that up and threatening him, and hang up on me. He will never comfort me, never stop me, never give me a reason to live. I lived for him, I chose to be with him and suffer than to be without him and be happy. I chose to make him my life, to put my friends, my family, myself, aside for him. I made him my world, I did everything to make him happy. 

Do you think he returned it? Do you think he repaid it with kindness? No, he took advantage of me, he ignored me. Told me to stop complaining, when I was down he kicked me, and told me to get up. I can't get up anymore, he doesn't listen. I tell told him he was breaking me, but he said I was just threatening him, that I was just complaining, I was bitching, if I didn't stop I wasn't good. If I didn't keep my feelings to myself he would punish me. 

He said he was doing his best, that he was trying. But nothing ever changed, years went by, nothing ever changed. Except me, I give up more control to make him happy, but it never made him happy. I begged, I pleaded, I was on my hands and knees, all the while he just yelled at me. If I called him now and told him all this, that he wasn't listening, that he was hurting me. He would do the same as before, he still wouldn't listen. He would say it was bullshit, that I was making things worse. 

No one has ever considered my feelings in whole life, not even him. So now I won't have feelings anymore, I'm just getting over with. 

I can't stand up, the room is spinning and I feel sick. 

I could go throw up, it would save my life. But there's no point in doing that, you see, I don't want to save my life. I'm too far gone for that, I told him I'd die for him and I am. I'm dieing because he couldn't love me enough to care about how I felt, he couldn't love me enough to stop hurting me, to listen to my cries for help. Maybe, when they see me dead in my coffin, when he has to come back for my funeral and manages to get time off for that, yet he couldn't make it while I was alive. 

Maybe people will love me then, when they don't have to do anything for me. Everyone wants me to be good, to love them unconditionally, but they never want to give me back anything. I gave him everything, my heart, my body, my soul, my mind, everything. Now there's nothing left for me, because what he gave of himself he got back ten fold, and I got nothing. Not even a sweet commit now and then. I forged all happiness to be with you.

But I refuse to sit around and pity myself all the time, I'm tired of it, I'm so pathetic. My heartbeat is rapid and loud in my ears, and everything is blacking out. It'll be better like this, I keep whispering out loud. Suicide is a coward's way out, call me a loser and a coward. Because I can't take anymore meanness and pain. Sure there is one other option, just leave him. But I love him to much to do that, so loving him will be my death. I always knew it would. He killed my heart long before my body, I'm just finishing the job he couldn't. 


End file.
